Battle Scars
by S.E. Mellark
Summary: Edward always told Alphonse he would go anywhere, do anything for his sake, and Al would laugh, push his shoulder, return the sentiment, but did he know? Did either of them? Supernatural/FMA Crossover. Gift-fic for T.R. Hawthorne.


_Author's Note: _So, I've recently become obsessed with something that wasn't anime (for once) and when my friend asked me to do this for her, I couldn't really say no. So, have a Supernatural/Fullmetal Alchemist crossover, only posted here because the font was super small on Tumblr and a certain someone can't adapt to squinting her eyes. Just kidding, I love you, Caramel Bear. This is probably riddled with mistakes, 'cause I haven't been obsessed with Supernatural for long and I most certainly haven't finished the series, but I tried. Give me that, at least.

Takes place pretty much at the end of the finale of Season Two of Supernatural. The one that made me bawl and realize that this show will be somewhat like DBZ in the "nobody really stays dead" department.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Supernatural and I most likely never will.**

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"_In each family a story is playing itself out, and each family's story embodies its hope and despair."_ ~ Auguste Napier

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Edward Elric would do anything for his brother.

He always told Alphonse that growing up, and while Edward meant every word, right down to the last syllable, he also never knew just how serious he really was.

It would usually be the parent who would make these sorts of promises, teach his or her child how to do certain things, like how to tie shoes correctly or to ride a bike without training wheels. That's the family you want in your innermost heart of hearts, whether that's what you go home to at the end of the day or not.

And then there are families like the Elrics, composed of absent parents and older siblings like Edward who assumed the role as both father and mother while one was "working" and the latter dead.

Their family wasn't always like this, however. They used to be normal – a typical household, one of those ones to strive for – but that all changed on a certain night in November back in 1983, back when Alphonse would cry in agitation and Edward didn't immediately stop whatever he was doing to see what the problem was.

The day it happened was normal enough, and while Edward remembers kissing his mother and brother goodnight before the tragedy struck, he doesn't recall much after the house caught fire. The heat and intensity of the flames is what Edward remembers with the most clarity, second only to the sound of Alphonse's warbling cries as Edward carried his younger brother away from the destruction all around them.

Their father always said the old Edward died along with their mother, that even after the fire was put out, it took a lot of coaxing for Edward to relinquish his hold on Al, even to his own father. Even then, protecting, somehow older.

It wasn't until a few years later that Edward, as the eldest son, was let in on a secret their father had kept from them since the night of their mother's death. The fire had been no accident, and the monsters the heroes slayed in those stories Trisha used to read to him were actually more than two dimensional drawings in a children's storybook. One such monster, the demon, was what killed their mom, pinning her to the ceiling in Alphonse's nursery and setting the fire that would have killed them all if their father hadn't acted so quickly.

But once he was told, Edward suddenly understood with a clarity that puzzles him even now. He understood why their father left them alone with babysitters so often, why he would stay away for weeks on end and come back with tired eyes and more worry lines than he left with. Edward understood it all, even if Alphonse was still so young that he would sit in Edward's lap and slobber all over his older brother's fingers, innocent with every breath while Edward himself began to slip away at the realization. His father's absence was caused by his need for revenge.

And once Edward realized that, he too felt the pull, and it was all over.

Five years old, ten, or fifteen, regardless of his age, Edward did all he could to ensure that Alphonse had as normal and stable a childhood as possible, even going as far as to steal a family's Christmas presents to lift Al's spirits when their father wasn't around for the holidays. But with their dad uprooting them at every turn, Edward never really stood a chance, nor could he continue to tell Al with false certainty that there were no such things as monsters.

Maybe Edward should have paid more attention to Alphonse growing up, or more attention to the non-supernatural aspects of their life, as Al used to say in the heat of a fight. Either way, Edward never noticed how much his brother resented their way of life until it was too late, until Alphonse was eighteen and bitter, robbed of his childhood, when he got into a fight with their dad and hauled ass to college before Edward regained his wits enough to stop him.

Edward realized later that he wouldn't have had the heart to stop Al from doing what he wanted anyway, as long as he was safe and happy.

In hindsight it was pretty hilarious how Edward assumed his baby brother would be any safer in some college dorm than he would be with his own family. Saner, maybe, but never safe.

Edward's contact with Al had been rather limited after his brother went to college, though things had been rocky between them even before Al's huge blowout with their dad, conversations kept clipped and pointless, more of a means for Alphonse to make sure Edward hadn't died on the job. When they got older, Alphonse started refusing to go on hunts more and more, and Edward was more often than not left standing next to a payphone in some random city with the dial tone droning obnoxiously in his ear, still trying to find the words to tell Alphonse that he missed hunting with him.

The whole situation frustrated him to no end, and while he blamed both his father and brother for the parts they played in the argument, he couldn't help but sympathize more with his father. Unlike Alphonse who struggled with the concept more than he ever did, Edward noted all the things their father had ever done for them to keep to two of them safe. Sure, they weren't ones to play a simple game of catch in their leisure hours, but their dad taught them how to protect themselves, loved them as fiercely as any father would love his sons, and that was a feat to behold, considering what had happened to their mom.

Their dad tried, he really did, even if he sometimes fell short of his goals or intentions, though not for lack of trying. He thought revenge was what their little family needed, and for a while Edward had agreed, but then Alphonse ditched, and things began to change.

Edward didn't blame his brother for being upset back then – or so he often tries to tell himself, 'cause, goddam, can Alphonse be a stubborn ass when he wants to be – but the distance between them, the distance Edward's job had caused, well, that was hard to swallow sometimes. After all, Edward was there for everything, for Al's first word, his first steps, and as he'd cheerfully encouraged his brother to toddle on chubby, uncertain limbs, he'd never imagined that Alphonse would take those skills in the future and use them to walk _away_ from him instead.

When their dad went missing, Edward had his doubts about yanking Alphonse out of his cozy, vanilla Stanford life to go looking for him. His baby brother had everything Edward never dared to dream of, and who was he to take Al away from that? But the itch to just be with his brother again became too hard to ignore, and when Alphonse consented to join him, even if his actions were influenced by his need for revenge over May's death, Edward was more relieved than he would ever admit to Al.

The Elric Brothers garnered quite a reputation while looking for their father, more so Edward, the shorter, hot-tempered older brother, compared to Alphonse, the younger sidekick who was apparently easier to reason with, though Edward knows how much of a handful little Alphonse can be.

All those news reports say that Edward Elric is a monster, a cunning, narcissistic man of twenty-six with long blonde hair – usually worn in a braid though sometimes sighted in a ponytail – golden eyes and a personality that leaves a lot to be desired. They think Edward corrupted Alphonse as their father corrupted him, that he pulled his little brother into his escapades by dangling the whole "family loyalty" thing over Al's head. It's what the police say, what the FBI agents say, what all the demons would say just to get under Edward's skin.

But do they know that narcissistic Edward Elric would gladly die for his brother?

Edward doubts that little fact can be found anywhere in his monstrous folder down at the station.

"Ed . . . Brother, what did you do?"

Edward turns his head slightly to look back at his brother, who – while Edward kept walking towards the Impala – stayed at the edge of the forest, watching Edward carefully.

Mustang and Sarah stayed behind to do a little cleaning up, leaving Edward and Alphonse to walk back to the main road on their own. Edward spent most of the trip fiddling with the empty Colt, while Al had been uncharacteristically quiet. This was the first time he'd spoken since after they killed Azazel. And despite the simplicity of the question, Edward has a feeling that the answers his brother wants aren't ones Edward wants to give.

Alphonse wants to know what he did? Probably something foolish, though that's a matter of opinion.

He clears his throat before speaking. "What are you talking about, Al? I haven't done anything. Kinda been busy fighting the son of a bitch that got mom and dad, in case you forgot."

"Don't play dumb with me. I know something's off about you. It's been this way since I woke up, after Kyle stabbed me."

Edward tries not to flinch, turning his back on Alphonse as he continues on toward the car. He would love to forget about everything that's happened, about Azazel and the powers he gave to Alphonse when he was a baby, the psychic children and the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he looks at Alphonse. He doesn't want to remember trekking through the woods with Mustang in a desperate attempt to locate his brother, only to find him in some abandoned township in Oklahoma, right in the middle of a fight for his life. Edward recalls finding his younger brother, remembers the pure relief that had been present in Al's eyes as he stumbled toward them, face stained with dirt and blood that both was and wasn't his own.

Edward remembers seeing movement beyond Alphonse's shoulder, that burst of adrenaline and the scream that tore from his throat, the glint of a weapon -

"Mustang looked at me like I was a ghost, Ed."

- and the arch of Al's spine when the knife was plunged into his back.

"Dammit, Edward, _answer_ me! You can't keep pretending like something isn't wrong. Back at Hell's Gate . . . do you think I couldn't hear Kyle talking? He said he _killed_ me, that he cut right through my spine!"

"Kyle was also trying to open the gateway to Hell, Al." Edward says, opening the door of the Impala even though Alphonse is still standing at the tree line. He would never leave Alphonse here just to escape the pending confrontation, though he's really not in the mood to be chewed out by his little brother at the moment. "I think he would've said anything at that point to stop _us_ from stopping _him_."

"Oh, cut the crap, Edward." Alphonse moves out from the safety of the pines, and Edward watches his reflection in the window as he moves closer and closer until he stops. Edward swears he can feel the weight of his brother's stare against his neck. "You're not fooling me. Now start talking."

Edward huffs, miffed and somewhat jilted, but from the way Alphonse is looking at him, even though Edward's back is turned, he knows his brother isn't going to settle for anything less than the truth. Edward sniffs, hesitating for only a moment before he quietly closes the door. "When he stabbed you, back in Oklahoma, Kyle killed you, Al. And to bring you back, I made a deal with the Crossroads Demon."

Edward always told Alphonse he would go anywhere, do anything for his sake, and Al would laugh, push his shoulder, return the sentiment, but did he know? Did either of them?

Alphonse is quiet for a long time, and when Edward works up the courage to turn around, his brother has his arms crossed and is just _staring_, mouth slightly ajar as he mulls over what Edward just said. "How – How long do you have, Edward?"

"A year."

"Only one? But the others . . . they had ten!"

Edward sighs, for he thought the same thing back at the crossroads, but with his mind fogged over with a couple day's worth of cheap booze and desperation, confronted by a demon in the guise of a good-looking woman, Edward thinks he would have settled for one week if it meant Alphonse was resurrected. "Yeah, well, seems like every demon in Hell or otherwise wants a shot at my soul. I didn't get the usual deal."

The horror and sorrow on his younger brother's face is enough to make Edward feel guilty for making the deal, but only for a split second, and he hates himself for it afterwards. "You shouldn't have done that." Alphonse says, and Edward can almost see the gears grinding in his brother's brain, watches the panic appear that Edward himself has yet to feel. He knows what Alphonse is thinking. Twelve months from now, Edward's soul – or whatever was left of it – is going to be escorted to the fiery pit by a couple of Hell Hounds. "How could you do that?"

Edward's head is shaking even before his response is voiced. "Don't get mad at me. Don't you do that_." _Alphonse sucks in a breath at that, eyes widening as he watches tears begin to build in Edward's eyes. Alphonse can't possibly understand the hell Edward went through back in Oklahoma. To have your little brother, the person you swore to protect no matter what, die in your arms, knowing there was absolutely _nothing_ you could do . . . it tore Edward apart inside. The days after were a haze of beer and despair, of fights with Mustang over the fact that Alphonse's body was rotting away in the bed while Edward struggled to let go.

That was what had infuriated Edward more than anything, those two words that Mustang would repeat, "Let go," over and over, again and again, like a broken record Edward couldn't stop. Edward would have never let go, not for as long as he lived, whether Alphonse was properly laid to rest or not. It's why he made the deal with the demon at the crossroads. To live with that agony, knowing that he had to continue on while Al was the one six feet under, well, Edward couldn't do it. Call him selfish, a coward, if you want, but Edward's family has always been his Achilles heel and always will be. "I had to. I had to look out for you." Edward says. "It's my job to protect you, Alphonse."

"Don't you think I'd do the same?" Alphonse demands, and while his voice cracks under the pressure of his despair, the fire in his golden eyes reminds Edward of their dad, and for a split second, though it's been happening a lot lately, Edward feels weary. "You've saved my life . . . over and _over_ again. You've sacrificed everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you?"

Edward says nothing, looking away from Alphonse and out into the darkness, towards the path that leads to Hell's Gate, to the graveyard which, less than an hour ago, was crawling with demons. Now they're all over the country, swarming and infesting, all because they failed to stop Kyle from opening the Gate. He and Alphonse have let everyone down, and Edward knows when word gets out about this, every hunter in the nation or otherwise will want their heads on a platter.

Yes, of course Edward knows the lengths to which Alphonse would go for him. There's no doubt in his mind that Al would have made the deal for Edward's life. The thought of Alphonse doing something like that for his sake makes Edward irrationally angry, but he wouldn't be surprised. He and Al were cut from the same cloth, psychic abilities be damned, so they've always been too much alike for their own good.

But Edward couldn't ask Alphonse not to sacrifice for him just as Alphonse could never persuade Edward to do the same. After losing both parents, they're all the other has, and neither of them wants to jeopardize that. Or at least not until Alphonse was killed and all bets were off.

"You're my older brother, Ed. There is _nothing _that I wouldn't do for you. And I don't care what it takes." Alphonse swears, nostrils flaring briefly, and the action is so Al-like Edward can't help but grin, even if Al himself looks to be on the verge of a meltdown. "I'm gonna get you out of this."

Edward shrugs, a flutter of panic blooming in his stomach, though only for a brief moment. The terms of his contract were that Edward himself couldn't try and weasel his way out of it without Alphonse dropping stone cold. If Al wants to try, Edward will let him, if only for his brother's peace of mind, but he'll have no part in it. It's a futile attempt anyway, Edward knows, so Alphonse is in no real danger.

"Guess I gotta save your ass for a change." Alphonse says, cocking his head in a manner that reminds Edward of a puppy, causing a few sweat-dampened strands of his hair to fall in front of his eyes. Edward frowns, lifting the empty Colt with a hand and placing his finger on the trigger, though – bullet-less or not – Edward would never apply pressure.

Alphonse laughs.

Edward lowers his arm as rustling sounds from the trees, and a moment later, Sarah steps out of the forest, Mustang following closely behind her. Both of their guns are holstered, and that tells Edward more than enough about the safety of the area.

"Well, the yellow-eyed demon might be dead, but a lot more got through that gate." Sarah says as they walk up, stopping beside Alphonse and reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder, probably to comfort him as well as steady herself. They all know Alphonse is going to blame himself partly for all that's happened, for not killing Kyle when he had the chance, but Edward's pretty relieved Al didn't take that last step, unsure if he would be able to pull his younger brother out of the rut he would surely fall into.

"How many you think?" Edward wonders, shifting his attention back to his brother, who is staring at the ground, lost in thought.

"Hundred . . . maybe two hundred." Alphonse sighs, shooting an imploring glance at Mustang, who frowns, always the strategist, probably doing calculations in his head.

"Hope to Hell you boys are ready." Mustang says eventually. "The war's just begun."

Sarah nods, and while Edward can see a hint worry in her gaze, it's practically smothered by a fiery determination that he's become familiar with over the years. He sees Winry there, the love Sarah has for her child, and he knows should anything happen to Winry, Sarah would go to any lengths to save her. It's a vicious, endless cycle, one that he himself has fallen prey to just as his father did, but he wouldn't change anything, nor would his dad, or Sarah, or any person who has the capability to love. Which Edward _does _have, thank you, CNN.

"Well, then," Edward says, sharing a look with Alphonse that he knows will convey exactly what he's thinking. They did what they set out to do: they found their father, they lost him, and then they finally avenged their mother after twenty-two years of chasing. But that doesn't mean it's over. Covenants with demons or not, Edward isn't going to just give in. He'll continue as he has for the past twenty-two years, taking on evil with his brother at his side, like the heroes in his childhood stories, though with more realism to the tale.

And he'll continue to protect Alphonse as he always has, even if his brother insists it's now his turn to protect Edward. Not that Edward really needs protecting. He's practically attached to Hell by a collar and chain at this point.

But it's the principle of the thing, family loyalty, which Edward Elric never takes for granted.

Edward turns and pops the trunk of the Impala while Alphonse sidles up next to him, tossing the Colt into the darkness and glancing at his brother before slamming it shut once more, and the finality of the sound somehow seems appropriate for the situation.

"We got work to do."


End file.
